Our Post-Relationship Friendship
by ACtravels
Summary: "What, Mum? You think I should send her a letter saying 'dear Rose, so it sucks that we broke up, although you probably had a point, and I was just wondering when the whole 'let's be friends' part of your speech kicked into action? Lots of friendly love, Scorpius' because, frankly, that doesn't seem like the sort of conversation that translates well to parchment."
1. One day after I

It wasn't the worst break up in the world. Rose had done worse and I'd taken bigger hits to the ego, but it did feel like the end of the world for a few minutes. It was my longest relationship, Rose and I, stretching the full course of eighteen months (and before then the prospect of a relationship had always been on the horizon, just out of reach) and one of the most intense periods of transit – of when we grew up and graduated from Hogwarts, got our first jobs and moved away from our dorm mates. It felt like the end of everything that I knew was certain, just for a little while, before I allowed myself to step back and took in the fact that we'd been rubbish for ages. Fighting, see, not getting on; things had been difficult and I could track Rose's reasoning back to its origin without too much in depth thinking. I wasn't surprised as much as the brutality of the whole thing had shocked me somewhat.

And now, the morning after, and I wasn't quite sure what to think. Something monumental had happened without me giving expression permission, and now it had happened and that was that – I couldn't change history, or else there'd have been plenty I'd have changed by now, but history was a fact and Rose Weasley had broken up with me because we just weren't working out.

Because it started with a breakup in which Rose didn't cry and I nearly didn't either (and I definitely didn't cry in front of her). Well actually, I suppose it all ended with a break up, because before then there was a whole relationship and a whole history that mapped itself across our final two years of education at Hogwarts ( not that we were together all that long, but I considered those two years as belonging solely to Rose). The beginning of the end was that messy period after finishing Hogwarts, but the actual end – or that second beginning – happened in a booth in Dom's favourite pub, where Rose dumped one Scorpius Malfoy. It was glossed over and delivered as a 'mutual agreement' of a relationship that was causing both of us to b unhappy and more than its fair share of arguments, but the bit I remembered was the '_we can be friends again, Scorp. I don't think I could deal with not being friends with you_.'

So that night in Dom's favourite pub was the beginning of one of the most complicated minefields I'd ever navigated, because girls often didn't mean what they said and I had every intention of taking Rose Weasley's words as law – we were going to be friends, and that was that. She'd as good as promised.

~~BREAK~~

Mum provided a second alarm call after the actual alarm, which was nice, because without it I was sure I'd have slept well past the start of work and been more than excusably late for my shift – as it was my head felt slightly fuzzy, although I wasn't sure what to attribute that too, and I'd have been more than happy to sleep until way past midday.

I felt like I was floating as I headed to work, spinning through the fireplaces as though that felt any different to the lightheaded, odd feeling that accompanied the morning revelations that after such a long time I was completely and utterly single and not tied to Rose Weasley in the slightest – or, at least, only as far as the basic duties of humanity stretched, or maybe as far as the duties of friendships stretched too – and I entered the office feeling disconnected and separate from my surroundings.

Not that that was particularly unusual, because the office was saturated with woman – other than Michael Piercey – that I usually felt outnumbered and disconcerted, but it was made considerably worse that one of the few woman who were obliged to take my side on things was now cut loose and not a reliable source of back up, so now I almost felt as though Lottie, Natasha and Tahirah were about to rip me apart whist Michael looked on with that blank expression of his.

Today of all days I'd have quite liked to have found myself back in the Hogwarts dorm and surrounding myself with my male, simple dorm mates and not worrying about declarations of friendship or the fact that Natasha, my boss, was absolutely terrifying or the fact that Lottie kept calling my 'Scorpio' for no reason that I could identify (and despite the fact that I'd told her, on multiple occasions, that I really did prefer the straight up and simple – or as close as my name could get to it – 'Scorpius) – because on days like this the whole concept of dealing with women was both alarming, terrifying and intriguing all at once.

Intriguing because, part of me felt, if I could just study someone for one more day I might gain some basic understanding of how the hell woman's mind's worked, and the rest because this belief was continually tainted by perpetual disappointment, which continued for as long as I kept up faith in this state of enlightenment.

But, as it was, Lottie Brookes yet again met me at the door and led me through to my office – as though I still might forget the way – and I sat down and started reading notes about individual cases connected with the floo network.

My job wasn't like Rose's – an internship at the Prophet – but it heralded chance of promotion and a position far enough in the ministry to provide for two. But, even I had to admit – on days like these – that it required little to no brainwork to sign off each separate incident as 'approved' or 'requires further investigation.'

Chances were I'd never find out the results of the investigation, and instead end up wondering about it on late nights when I couldn't sleep, mapping out the faces of the _potentially _innocent in my mind and trying to pinpoint whether I thought them _actually _innocent: it was the sort of thing, had I told Rose, that would have driven her crazy.

_Rose. _We had spent such a long time together – by anyone's standards, eighteen months was a long time – and even my parents had to grudgingly admit that our relationship scoped beyond the boundaries of teenage rebellion (from Rose's side, not from mine; they never doubted me) and instead sat somewhere close to serious, but it was all those mornings we met for breakfast before classes, the study sessions for two and the pub dates that made me feel slightly lost. Rose used to say that I was no good at grounding myself to people (a leftover effect from my less than functional funny), and whilst she had Dom and Albus and all her Hogwarts friends and her Prophet friends my social circles were much smaller than that. And so suddenly I felt cut off from all of it.

"Morning," Lottie said, her hair falling over her eyes as it always did and looking unduly cheerful, as she always did, "cup of coffee, Scorpio?"

I nodded as I made my way towards my desk. There was a picture of Rose and I next to the photo of me with my parents, taken by Imogen in the middle of seventh year (back before Rose and Imogen had fallen out) and the moment it had been taken had been a rare moment of publically displayed affection. Rose always hated that sort of thing, but it had been in the middle of a snowball fight and any occasion where I joined in with things like that with her family she seemed to take the success to heart (she said, on occasions, that in her view I'd missed out on a childhood all together). In that moment, she was tucked under my arm, her bright red hair bigger than normal thanks to Albus rubbing snow into her scalp, her face flushed pink and her hands wrapped around my waist. I'd beamed and kissed her forehead and then the camera flashed. _Snap._

"How is Rose?" Lottie asked, approaching my desk with a cup of coffee – doubtless with the number of sugars and an odd amount of milk, as Lottie tended to make up people's orders if she forgot to ask or you didn't tell her, as though not directly stating a preference meant you were indifferent. She pushed her glasses up her nose and nodded towards where I was staring at the photograph.

"Oh," I said, plucking the photo from my desk and placing it face up in my draw. I shut it. _Snap. _

"Ah," Lottie said.

I'd rather have left the photo on the desk, but that seemed inappropriate and strange now. It was just plain pathetic to have a photo of your ex girlfriend on your desk, however good friends you were after the break up.

My coffee, this time, at least appeared to have milk in it.

"Who else is in?"

"Just Michael and me," Lottie said, "and your documents haven't arrived yet."

Being alone with Lottie also left me feeling slightly disconcerted. Although I couldn't pinpoint why, exactly, she made me want look in the mirror and make sure that someone hadn't drawn something on my face whilst I slept, the feeling was always there whenever she perched on the edge of my desk and chatted away. Which she did just about daily, because despite the fact that the office was comprised of an almost entirely female workforce, the fact that she was the secretary seemed to convince her that she was beneath the other's social standards.

Or, as Rose had said, maybe she just preferred talking to guys. And Michael was certainly not a conversationalist.

"If you ever want to talk about Rose, Scorpio, just let me know," Lottie said, smiling before she left me alone to sample my coffee.

At least three sugars today and about fifty percent milk content which, really, wasn't all that far off how I usually made it for myself.

"Lottie says you're back on the market," Natasha Bevis – my boss – said as she dumped my pile of documents onto my desk, "she warned me to be sensitive to your plight," she continued, raising her thick eyebrows and an expression not unlike a smile tugging at her wide mouth, although not a smile because Natasha Bevis never did anything soft like smiling, "so I'll schedule the _Scorpio_ auction for tomorrow. You're sure to find someone who'll have a Malfoy – personally, I think Piercey's had his eye on you from the second you walked in." And then she laughed loudly, sending an amused glance towards Lottie, before disappearing into her private office.

I glanced in Michael Piercey's direction. He was still slumped over his desk in the corner and showed no signs of acknowledging that anyone else was sharing the same oxygen as him, let alone in showing actual interest in a person.

"Morning," Tahirah said in that silky way of hers, before sitting down at the desk next to me and beginning to scan through her own documents, which meant either Lottie hadn't told her about my 'plight' yet, or she'd deemed Tahirah sensitive enough not to be warned against stomping on my allegedly broken heart.

I wasn't really sure whether I _did _have a broken heart.

It didn't appear to have sunk in yet.

"I made you some more coffee, Scorpio!" Lottie said, arriving with another cup –which looked to have been blessed with about a teaspoon worth of milk. She gave me an extra intense smile and I took the coffee as Lottie's misguided attempt to make me feel better, although I imagined all her efforts would only lead to a lot more jokes from my female co-workers and a caffeine overdose.

"Thanks," I said, grudgingly.

You couldn't tell Lottie that sort of thing though; it was just to akin to kicking a puppy to even consider it. Even Natasha didn't outwardly mock Lottie, instead choosing a subtle tone of mockery clearly laced with a lot of affection.

There was a very large part of me that cared even less about the floo network than usual and it was really quite difficult to not take the photograph of Rose and me out of my desk draw just to look at it for awhile.

~~BREAK~~

I couldn't pinpoint the exact moment that Rose and I became friends.

I was never the most sociable person at Hogwarts. Mostly, I found it easier in respect to avoid the reaction that accompanied the name 'Malfoy' by not drawing attention to myself. Instead, I existed happily in the background, working hard to achieve good results from average intelligence, talking to everyone a little without forming any real close relationship with anyone.

And it was okay. I never felt lonely – I spent half my childhood alone in Malfoy Manor and, after that was sold, the rest in a house that was still a little too big for the three of us – so I was quite happy existing mainly in my own company and not having to worry about other people. That, Rose later said, was my personal brand of Slytherin because, as she pointed out, no one could really accuse me of being ambitious in terms of career or my situation at Hogwarts, but by avoiding tying myself to people I avoided having to deal with their problems on top of my own.

I was my own Scorpius Island and absolutely and perfectly happy.

And then Rose came tumbling into my life and seemed to care that during most games of Hide and Seek in my childhood I'd cram myself into a small space and wait, and wait, and only give up on my father actually trying to find me once I'd fallen asleep there and woken up with a crook in my neck and _not _to my father's looming face, either, but to the same blank walls of whatever hiding space it had been. It wasn't like my Dad was a bad father, because he wasn't, it was just that he'd once been pushed into being a bad person and had been somewhat damaged ever since – so, whilst my Mum would dote on me, Dad would look at me with this odd expression like he couldn't quite believe I existed, as if searching in me for something of himself and hoping to hell that no resemblance was there.

I hadn't expected her to be so fixated on the lack of fun in my childhood, because on the outside one simply didn't immediately associate Rose with having fun anyway; her family were all so much louder and more attention seeking with their need for everyone to know that they were enjoying themselves, so I never related Rose to the pranks and the Quidditch insanity and the general chaos that, say, seemed to follow Roxanne and Fred in their wake. But, according to Rose, just because she occasionally opted out that didn't mean she didn't think it was important, or that she didn't participate in it at all, it just meant that sometimes she didn't feel like it.

And so then Rose set about trying to teach me that flying was fun, and not just a discipline, and that it was never too late for a first snow fight, and that it was practically a law that you had to carve a pumpkin near Halloween, and pull a prank – at least once – and wear stupid novelty jumpers at Christmas just because. I hadn't expected to be swept along so by it all, or to find myself so fixated on the way Rose laughed or the fact that she seemed to care about all these missed experiences whereas no one else could give a crap.

I was still a teenager who probably ought to have more fun but couldn't quite bring himself too, and I still took things too seriously and couldn't quite see where the fun was to be had in dodging bludgers and starting food fights, but with Rose by my side I was _able _to enjoy myself. And we had our own private jokes and our moments and then, it hit me all at once, that I was completely in love with her.

That revelation had led to me enlisting Imogen to help me out. I'd dated before, but never very successfully, and this was the first time where I'd really wanted things to work out. After it had all worked itself out, which took some time, I was pulled into socialising with Rose's Gryffindor friends more often and they became my friends too – although I'm sure nearly all of them but Imogen thought that I was boring – and then I wasn't such a social recluse and I realised that I quite liked it, really.

And even after that it was hard to pinpoint exactly Rose took over my life but it had, at some point, happened. But that was okay, because I wasn't going to lose her, because she'd promised me – flat out – that we were going to be friends.

* * *

_Hullo! This is my current NaNo project and is being written entirely for my best fanfiction bud, Hanzi. I'm currently a day ahead of schedule with 15k, but the past few years I've had a much better lead so I'm a little apprehensive... but I've never lost so it should all be fine. Please review :)_


	2. One day after II

One day after II

"Scorpius?" Mum said after I'd floo'd back into the living room, dawdling in the kitchen to avoid the moment when I had to face facts and really think about things. I'd gotten back home late last night, woken late this morning and hadn't really had a proper chance to adjust to the whole idea yet - and, honestly, the current state of denial was sounding a lot better than the fragile state my work colleagues seemed to have been expecting all day.

"Hey," I said, distractedly, "cup of tea?"

"No thanks," she said, a slightly tight lipped smile, "I'm not drinking caffeine after midday anymore."

"Right," I said, "Aunty Daphne's master plan for looking younger."

"Hmm," Mum said, watching me fuss with tea bags and milk and sugar, "how was work?"

"Oh," I shrugged, levitating my tea bag towards the bin and shrugging my shoulders, "it was okay."

"Your father," She began, taking a deep breath inwards and her jaw tightening slightly, "has signed up for more Ministry Work."

"Well," I said, "you know Dad."

"I think that's probably the problem."

For a long time Dad simply hadn't worked. From what I knew about the funk he was in after the war I was surprised he actually found time in between feeling sorry for himself to find some poor woman to marry him. But, after he met Mum he seemed to burst into a state of activeness again - ending up doing some of the more menial paperwork for the Auror Department, the sort of stuff that he was overqualified for and a bit too smart for, and put him in the same office as Harry Potter for several hours a day.

That had baffled me for years, but I guess that it was something that they'd hated each other right from the word go - that Harry Potter had detested him even before he'd been roped into becoming a Death Eater with the permanent proof branded onto his arm - so it made it truer or better somehow. The evident dislike was at least based on something more concrete than general prejudice.

"Mum," I said, taking a sip of my tea, "he goes mad stuck around the house all day."

"Well," she returned, "it's not like I enjoy having nothing to do but, Scorpius, I'm not dragging you into our problems. Tell me about your day."

"It wasn't really very interesting," I sighed, "I met Sebastian Wilkes for lunch and he seems to be liking his job much more than I am."

"It's just a stepping stone," Mum said, stepping forward and brushing my hair back from my face (a gesture that I absolutely abhorred and made me feel like I'd regressed about ten years, but there wasn't much I could do about it), "you won't be doing it forever. How was your date with Rose?"

"Not good." I said, turning away to put the teaspoon in the sink.

"Arguing?"

"Over," I said, feeling my shoulders slump slightly and turning back to face Mum feeling oddly grim, "we're done."

"Oh, Scorpius," Mum said, her features twisting into a frown as she face me. My mother was always very well put together - something which I mostly chalked up to her elitist pureblood upbringing - which meant that I'd probably only seen her once and twice without full make up and her hair curled and ready for company, which Rose claimed wasn't very motherly but, to me, she was the very height of maternal. "Surely there's something you can do?"

"We're going to be friends." I said, but I was aware my voice sounded a little dead, "it's fine Mum, really."

It wasn't.

"Friends?"

"Yes. We were friends before."

"But…" she stopped abruptly when she saw the look I gave her, rearranging her features into a small smile and said "we'll talk about this when your father gets home." which was never a good sign, really, where my parents were concerned.

~~BREAK~~

At that start of our relationship Rose had confessed to being convinced that our parents were going to be dead set against our relationship, in fact, I think it had appealed to her sense of drama - a whole Romeo and Juliette tragic aspect to things that, honestly, I hadn't really considered - but my parents were nothing short of pleased.

For a start, whilst I was pretty average, Rose definitely wasn't - she was a top (or there about) student with lots of friends, a romantic life, Prefect, then Head Girl, all round well liked and damn beautiful (or at least, so I thought). If anything, I thought pulling Rose Weasley was the moment my Dad was most proud of me: not only had I redeemed our name to an extent and proved that I was a nice normal boy who didn't stand by and let people tortured, I'd really undermined two of his school nemesis by shacking up with their daughter.

He actually properly encouraged me to have her stay over which was admittedly a tad disturbing, but it was a lot better than Rose's parents throwing a hissy fit when Rose tentatively suggested that I could, maybe, stay a few days at hers over Christmas? Staying in Albus's room, naturally, but staying over… just a night or two? I'd never felt less like a Gryffindor as when having Hermione Granger looking at me like that whilst Ron had lost the ability to speak. It was only because Ginny and Harry, who apparently let Albus and or James have their female friends or girlfriends stay over all the time (in one of the spare bedrooms), that I wasn't lynched on the spot, hung, drawn and quartered into bite sized Scorpius chunks.

For the most part it was nice having my parents onside and actually liking my girlfriend, but in situations like this when I really felt it was none of their business, I wasn't sure how I felt about them mentally cheering us on.

~~BREAK~~

"Mum," I sighed, "this really is my business."

"Well," Mum said, sending a desperate look in my Dad's direction and leaning forwards across the table, "what was your squabble about?"

"It wasn't a squabble," I said, sighing irritably "we just talked about it and we've been arguing for a long time so…"

"Scorpius," Mum said, "if your father and I broke up every time we argued then frankly… well, you wouldn't have been conceived."

Lovely.

"With the way this conversations going, that doesn't sound too bad."

Dad caught my eye and cracked a half smile - which was just about as close to happy that my father ever got, so that was a nice note of approval from him. And those were quite rare.

"Oh," Mum said, her face crumpling, "I know you've been together for a long time Scorpius, but you can't really mean that."

"No," I said, "of course I don't, I was just… never mind, Mum. Fine, let's talk about it."

"You should eat your food," Dad piped up, ignoring his own to stare at me, "it'll get cold."

"Thanks," I muttered, grudgingly picking up my fork and preparing for the onslaught of listening to my mother rattle on for a very long time about how Rose was probably the best thing that was ever going to happen to me and that I had to fight to get her back or lose her forever to some bloke who didn't live with his parents, have a slightly crummy job and a tarnished family name that usually led to people suspecting I was about to go crazy and start Adava Kedavra some ass. Naturally, that was all just subtext; because my mother was quite adept at brainwashing herself into thinking she thought that I was perfect.

"So," Mum said, taking a sip of her white wine before placing it down again, "what exactly have you been arguing about?"

"Everything," I said, "she was mad because I blew her off for some Quidditch match and then dinner, because I was mad about her turning into her mad cousin Dom because she thinks that's the only way anyone at her internship will like her. And then I argued with Dom and she argued with me about arguing with Dom -"

"Dom?"

"Dominique Weasley," Dad interjected, "second daughter of Bill Weasley and Fleur Weasley, the girl who was champion for Beauxbatons."

"Ah," Mum said, drinking more wine and ignoring her dinner, "and you don't like Dom?"

"No," I said, "but the bigger problem is she doesn't like me, and as Rose is currently under the influence Rose doesn't much like me at the moment either."

"And they… live together?"

"Yes," I said, "because Dom works at the Prophet and Rose really wants to be a journalist."

"Why did you cancel dinner?" Dad asked, staring at me properly.

God, the whole thing was ridiculous and far too akin to some sort of interrogation for me to be comfortable with. I didn't think it was exactly considered normal for most late-teens to discuss their relationship problems with their parents, particularly when we usually avoided the topic of feelings all together because there were just too many issues to deal with on that front.

"Didn't feel like it."

"So you've gone off her?"

"No, Mum," I said irritably, "it's complicated, okay? We're not at Hogwarts anymore and things are different and now we're not together and we're just going to be friends and that's that."

Mum took in a deep breath and took up her fork, seeming to get taller and more refined in her seat. Her Dad sent me a look, a you've done it now sort of look which made me want to hide in my room and shut out my parents, at least for a bit.

"Scorpius," Mum said, in that tight, regal voice of hers, "I'm going to ignore that outburst simply because you're obviously going through a difficult time, but I will not have you raise your voice at my dinner table."

"Sorry," I said, glancing between them and, as if on cue, they both began to eat in silence. I rolled my eyes and wished that I could bitch about the whole thing to Rose - we both knew what dysfunctional families felt like, that was for sure.

It was later, when I didn't have anyone to write to that I started to feel the loneliness of being cut free after such a long time. It was just that I'd never had a real excuse to feel lonely for the past eighteen months, because I could always combat that with the perfectly logical reminder that I had Rose, and that she cared, so dwelling on that harrowing feeling of being separate from everyone was just indulging needlessly.

Honestly, it made no sense to me. Rose was the single most important figure of my life in the past few years and I was, still, completely in love with her. That, there was no denying, because most of the problems had stemmed from me being worried about losing her and so, in some respects, actually losing her had let me breathe just for a second and stop worrying.

I didn't think the real truth of the matter had hit me quite yet.

I hadn't lost many things in my life because I endeavoured not to gain too much: I had my parents, who's fragile marriage was a source of most of my problems, and I had a few friends but none who I felt were indispensable or whom I wouldn't let myself depend on (as dependable as Rose always told me I was, I didn't much like to be dependent - that might well be part of it, but it was just the way I was and wasn't worth thinking about too much), I had no precious reputation to speak of, no truly valuable possession. All I had, really, that I wanted to keep was my parent's marriage going and Rose Weasley.

I should have known that Rose was too good to actually last, because as a Malfoy I had been repeatedly reminded that good fortune isn't something I particularly deserved. In fact, losing Rose was probably only a little of the bad karma I'd inherited from my father but that didn't mean the whole thing didn't really hurt.

Except the hurt hadn't really gotten through my calm exterior yet. I should, by all rights, be panicking and crying and stressing out and forming stupid plans to win her back. My parents were exactly right in considering Rose to be the one decent thing about my life. I mean, it wasn't much to speak off - teenager living with his parents pushing paper so he had something to do in the day time and a bit of money put by for a future that contained absolutely nothing. So losing her should have me crying out on the kitchen floor, clutching a childhood soft toy to my chest and sobbing about being alone forever or, worse, not being alone forever and ending up with someone who wasn't Rose (because there was no way that I'd ever find someone as amazing and worth my time as Rose Weasley).

It was the whole notion of friendship that had displaced all the woebegone angst and the heartbreak, I decided, because although a life without Rose sounded horrific, a life being friends with Rose hadn't been all that bad before we'd dated. I'd still spent time with her, we'd still talked, and she'd still laughed and called me dependable and cared about my past and my future and my present. Rose cared about me in a way that no one else in the world quite managed - my Dad loved me, in his mixed up slightly confused way of his, and my Mum dotted on me in the way that only Pureblood mothers knew how (with added simultaneous expectation, criticism and bizarre views on what constituted as a family norm). And then my friends all quite liked me and would probably try and pull me off the slippery slope of depression should I start slipping, but Rose was the only one who'd understand what it was that made me trip and start to fall.

I could manage without kissing and flirting and dates and staying over at Rose's apartment and her sleeping in my bedroom and criticising my room's lack of colour and personality. Those were nice extras, but Rose was the essential component of all those things and, providing Rose wasn't pulling herself out of the equation with the break up, then I would somehow deal with the sudden loss of all the couple aspects to our relationship.

That probably wasn't healthy. I was well aware that it sounded a bit pathetic too, but it was how I felt and there was no denying that.

Rose didn't not want me anymore; she just didn't want the arguments and the stress of continuing our relationship.

Fine. It was all going to be fine.


	3. Three days after

"If this is a booty call," Stacey said, twirling her spaghetti round her fork as she looked up at me, "then you should really have gone for a more attractive approach to the day."

"It's not." I muttered, glancing down at my lasagne for a few seconds before closing my eyes slightly.

"Figured," Stacey said with an eye roll, "Christ, you look awful. Honestly, Scorp, I don't think I've ever been less attracted to you than I am now."

"So glad we arranged to meet for dinner." I muttered, pressing my lips together and taking a sip of water. Sometimes it was difficult to remember that Stacey was largely joking, but then I reminded myself that Stacey was a bitch and I didn't give a crap.

"Well, I'm glad you're still able to be sarcastic, Scorp," Stacey continued, taking an overly large mouthful of spaghetti in her stride and chewing deliberately, "I wasn't expecting you to be functional."

"I don't feel functional," I said, blinking and feeling like the action took a long time and a lot of effort, "so you know then?"

"That you and Rose broke up? Yeah," Stacey said, "although even if I hadn't I'd have guessed either that or an impromptu pregnancy and, given you're so _dependable -"_ it was about now when I cursed ever telling Stacey about anything to do with my relationship with Rose… it was likely a strange thing to do given our personal history, " - you'd just take a pregnancy in your stride or whatever."

"Thanks, I think."

"Are you eating?"

"Yeah," I said, picking up my fork and looking wearily at the lasagne, "I'm not… not going to fall apart just because…"

"Look, Malfoy," Stacey said, a trail of spaghetti hanging off her fork emphasising her hand gestures further, "I may not be a relationship guru, but you dated Rose for ages and you can break down if you want. In fact, if I was Rose - which isn't something I like to consider much - and I saw you here, three days after our break up, having dinner with another girl I'd probably die inside. Don't get scared, Scorp, I know this isn't a date - I mean _look at you." _

"Thanks," I muttered, chewing on a mouthful of lasagne without really tasting it or wanting anything to do with it, "I miss her."

"You didn't say it was a pity party when you invited me here."

"Sorry."

"Stop apologising," Stacey said impatiently, "Christ, Scorp, we're friends - mull in your own self-pity for a bit and ignore my sarcasm. It wasn't a genuine complaint."

"Sorry," I said again. Stacey sent me a look. "I just… I haven't really slept, you know? Just thinking about everything."

"About how glorious Rose Weasley was?" Stacey suggested. "When you get to the point where hating her will be helpful do let me know, because I have a couple of humdingers lined up and waiting."

"What?"

"For a start," Stacey said, "what is _with _the way she pronounces forehead?"

"I don't think that's going to help Stace," I said, although I did know what she meant and it was a little annoying it was nothing compared to just thinking about Rose's lips forming the word. The whole thing made me _smile _rather than created levels of irritation enough to be glad to be rid of her.

"I've got_ loads_," Stacey said, "I mean, Scorp, I've got tons. And not just things like pronunciation issues, I'm talking serious character flaws like an inability to put eyeliner on properly and her incessant desire to be liked."

"I'll let you know." I muttered, feeling my shoulders cave inwards slightly. The main thing that got to me - right to the place in my stomach where Rose's absence was beginning to hurt - was to be so accepted and then to _not be wanted _anymore. And the idea that Rose just didn't want me anymore: she knew me inside and out, every little nook and crevice of my personality, every little insecurity and she'd looked at it all objectively and it turned out that I wasn't _worth it _any more. She didn't want anything to do with me.

Except friendship, of course.

"I'm a little surprised you wrote to me." Stacey said, taking a sip of her wine and raising her eyebrows at me. I glanced up at her. "I take it you want Rose back? Because starting hanging out with the ex again isn't going to help."

"That was ages ago."

"Like that matters," Stacey said, waving this away, "time is irrelevant in these sorts of matters. But, I'd honestly thought you'd have gone to Imogen to bleed your heart out too."

"I'm not bleeding my heart out to you," I huffed.

"Of course not," Stacey conceded, "because Scorpius Malfoy is too manly to talk about his emotions. Been there, done that."

"I wanted to ask your advice." I admitted.

"About getting over someone?" Stacey asked, her expression mildly incredulous. "Scorp, you're my longest relationship and that was… what… shorter than three months? And I dumped your sorry ass."

"No," I said, "not about that. About… well, we were friends after we broke up."

"You think you can be friends with Rose?" Stacey asked. "Never going to happen."

"It's not up for discussion."

"First," Stacey said, placing down her fork to fully get into the rant, "why would you _want _to be friends with her? She's a chameleon girl whose idea of romance was to call you _dependable_ which, by the way, really isn't very sexy. She's a Weasley, she can't say the word forehead and she dumped you."

"You dumped me."

"Yeah," Stacey said, imploringly, "but you didn't care about that! You didn't _like _me all that much, let alone being _in love_ with me. Second, it's never going to work. You're either going to turn into one of those bipolar on off relationships which result in some sort of addiction, or you'll end up as worst enemies, or you'll get back together and - oh, seriously Scorpius? Are you that predictable? You think you can be friends and _then_ get back together afterwards? She's going to put so much effort into friendzoning you relationship reconciliation is just about zero."

"It's possible." I muttered.

"No," Stacey said, "it isn't. If you want to waste your time pining after Rose whilst being her _friend _then you feel free – and please do keep me updated on how badly it all goes wrong, will you? I could do with more amusement in my life."

"Stacey," I sighed, glancing down at my less than half eaten lasagne and setting down my fork, "I don't know what else to do."

"Chase after her, if you will," Stacey shrugged, "you'll either get back together or you'll be _that_ ex who wouldn't take no for an answer."

"How's Stan?" I asked.

"My idiot brother is as idiotic as ever. I hate to say it, but I think he misses being your room mate. Lord knows why, given no one can accuse you of being sociable and you near enough ignored anyone who wasn't Rose all last year."

"Not true."

"A little bit."

"Well, you were a bit of a special case Stace, and I didn't talk to the others much anyway. I'm still in contact with Seb."

"Everyone is in contact with Seb. He likes to sit their being charismatic and have you marinade in his aurora of success."

"Still not woken up and realised you're the perfect Mrs Sebastian Wilkes, then?"

"No, not exactly," Stacey said, rolling her eyes and looking as cheerful as ever, "look, Scorp, I know you like being your little self-sufficient being, and that's nice and very Slytherin - I approve - but I figure you're going to need _some_ friends now you've taken a pair of nice jagged scissors and cut around all your social relationships and I'm glad that we're doing this."

"Really?" I asked, glancing up at Stacey. Given our relationship had always been a matter of me being around when she wanted me and then her not being around when she didn't want me (until, suddenly, I wasn't around at all and Stacey had found that after taste of that a little sour) this seemed to coming from nowhere to me. And I did _like_ Stacey and it was a bit difficult to stay friends with her whilst dating Rose, as girlfriends generally don't take well to you being friends with your most recent ex (which took me awhile to figure out).

"I've missed _laughing _at you," Stacey admitted, "your criminal seriousness and inability to enjoy yourself has always been hysterical."

"I have friends."

"Your parents don't count."

"Wouldn't have counted them anyway," I said, "but… Imogen."

"How _is _Imogen?" I hesitated a few seconds too long. "Oh, that's right - you don't know."

"And work colleagues."

"You socialise with them outside Ministry hours, do you?"

"I could do," I said, half smiling as she gave a triumphant hand gesture which, as it turned out, was a little too erratic as it sent a bit of spaghetti sauce flying across the restaurant.

"You could do a lot of things," Stacey said, "like throw yourself at the door of Rose's apartment over and over again, spending hours nearly knocking yourself out to show your pure desperation and the depth of your love for one, Rose Weasely, until you eventually pass out in a pool of angst. But everyone knows what you're going to do is _nothing._ Rose knows that. I know that. Everyone knows that."

"You're not making me feel better."

"Okay," Stacey said, "well, Scorp. You'll get over it at some point. I mean, it might take a few years of your silent pining and comparing every woman you ever meet with Rose and dreaming about the way she says forehead just because it reminds you of _her. _And you might start crying every time you see a Weasley in the street. You'll probably lose a bunch of weight and forget about the importance of washing for a bit. Cry for a long time. Believe no one can ever love you. Have a couple of pointless one night stands with one of your few selection of exes," Stacey gestured to herself with an eye roll, "a few dead end relationships with gingers…but you will, one day, get over it."

"Thanks." I muttered.

"Anytime. Are you not eating that lasagne?"

"Go ahead," I said miserably, pushing it towards her.

"Thanks," Stacey said, brightening up, "and you just let me know about that booty call, yeah?"

~~BREAK~~

When I was eleven my parents nearly split up.

It was a combination of them not really liking each other all that much anyway (and as far as my eleven year old self was concerned, they were completely indifferent to each other and simply happened to live in the same house) and their single common interest being displaced to a snowy, unknown corner of Scotland.

With my sparse letters home from Hogwarts acting as the only talking point in conversation, I was entirely sure that every comment I made about sitting next to Albus Potter in Potions (assigned seats) and every grammatical mistake was broken down, talked over and discussed it a similar level as a piece of fine literature. When I cottoned on to the fact that these letters were the last thread of hope my parents had, I lengthened them and invented stupid problems with awkward solutions that they had to sit down and work out – I thought my roommate might be wearing my robes but I wasn't sure how to ask him, a Hufflepuff had borrowed a Quill and then disappeared leading to me being without a writing implement and therefore not making notes and getting detention with one of my Professors, one of my friends had snuck a pet gerbil into school and I was unsure whether or not to tell on him.

By the end of the year, I'd invented so many problems and stories that I was scared to come home less Mum asked me about Simone Pinkleton's allergic reaction and I forgot what the details of that misadventure actually were, but it turns out that the second I got home the questions about Hogwarts stopped completely and they thrived on once again meddling my life, nagging about my social life, posture, grades and whether I was doing enough studying.

Come the next September I had to admit that they were both beginning to look apprehensive – as though the prospect of me once again disappearing from their lives had made even them feel as though they were on the edge of the end – they were closer to each other than they had been for years previously. There were moments which suggested genuinely affection: kisses on the cheek and cups of tea that were made for each other, quiet conversations at the bottom of the stairs and signs that they'd been talking about me whilst I wasn't there, dissecting another part of my life that they could interfere with.

We settled into a pattern in which my parents would depend solely on summers and my letters to keep their marriage from sinking into a more depressing state that normal and, maybe it wasn't exactly healthy, but the glimpses of arguments was enough to convince me that it was worth dragging it out for as long as physically possible. Whilst my mother would take a separation perfectly well (a few tears, a makeover, moving back in with her sister, probably some form of facelift charm) my father would not cope with losing the singular person in his life who actually_ chose _him. I didn't count, because I had just happened, and his parents didn't count because they had no choice but to love him, and his mate Goyle didn't really count because Dad had chosen_him. _Mum, however, had looked at Draco Malfoy and not seen a man who, as a teenager, had plotted to kill his Headmaster, seen more death than anyone can stand seeing, and stood by and let people he'd known since he was eleven years old be tortured in his library. She'd seen someone worth having and maybe it was because my Dad had once been a semi-attractive man, or she'd been won over by his tortured soul, or just loved him despite the fact that he was near-unlovable.

And if my Mum finally did what she'd been threatening to do for most of my life, and probably sometime before that, I was entirely sure that my Dad would not last a year without falling into some awful vice that I'd eventually have to pull him out of. Or I'd be putting him in his grave.

So, when we graduated Hogwarts most people had several choices. Live with their parents, live with their friends, live with their significant other… but I hadn't felt like I had much of a choice at all, when moving out completely was sure to result in a major-crisis, family wise, and I didn't want to be responsible for my father's ultimate demise into alcoholism or some form of other potentially fatal addiction. Rose had been utterly gobsmacked by the assertion that I was going to live with my parents as she considered this the perfect opportunity to get away from her parent's bickering and cut herself away from being a teenager, but if I cut myself away from my parents there'd be nothing much of them left.

Maybe I wasn't anything all that special, but I was the sum total legacy of Astoria Malfoy, nee Greengrass, and Draco Malfoy. It felt more than heartless to let them down.

~~BREAK~~

"Scorpius," Mum said, her expression that carefully designed pretty smile that usually accompanied some bad news, "you might have noticed that your father and I have been having some difficulties recently."

Noticed? It was a bit bloody difficult not to notice when I was living with them and hadn't seen them speak for at least a week (longer, if you didn't count 'could you pass me the butter, Draco' which I tended to not as Dad had ignored the request for an awkwardly long five seconds before _I'd _reached over and passed the butter) and, before then, I'd overheard half of an argument which they'd cut off immediately when they heard the kettle boil. Bizarrely, my parents seemed convinced that I'd never noticed their marital problems and that they'd sheltered me from their issues my whole life.

I think I'd probably known my parents weren't madly in love before I could speak.

"Really, Mum?" I asked, trying hard not to be too sarcastic, because Mum was quite sensitive to that sort of thing.

Her lips tightened slightly, "Yes."

And this was it. The moment I'd been trying to put off for most of the life. Considering everything, Dad didn't look too bad – he was still stood with her shoulders tense and his expression fixed on me as if wondering how, exactly, I was related to him, but he didn't look like he was considering drowning his sorrows in a bottle of something strong or smoking.

I could practically hear the D word floating around the room and clinging to the corners of our kitchen. At least I was too old for them to argue about custardy arrangements, because there's no way Dad would win and there's no way he'd stand losing (not because of any real affection, just because the pure fact of losing didn't sit well with my father).

"We've got an appointment tomorrow," Mum continued, her eyes welling up slightly, "to see a couple's councillor."

"_What_?"

"We're going to get counselling, Scorpius. Your break up with Rose inspired the both of us -"

"- I'm glad my life was so helpful."

"Now, Scorpius, don't be facetious. You know that's not what I meant. Your bad decision in letting Rose slip through your fingers when, quite clearly, you didn't want to break up made the both of us realise that you can't let love slip through your fingers because you _don't fancy putting in the effort." _

I was struck immediately about the letters that my eleven year old self used to write, which I was sure my parents must have known were entirely fake, of made up problems with difficult solutions that they'd map out together. When the replies came I always heard their response in a mix of their voices, Dad interjecting points and Mum taking the lead role and I'd always know that they'd worked on it together, that it had brought them together, tying them up with shared achievement.

Now this, a real problem with no viable solution, had led to my parents seeking actual _help. _

"Right," I said, feeling a little angry but knowing better than to flip out at Mum – she took anyone raising their voice in the house as a personal insult – so yelling any sort of insult at her would be a mortal wound on her pride, "well, that's great."

"And it's not too late," She said primly, "Rose has probably not replaced you yet."

"Rose isn't going to replace me, Mum."

"Yes," Mum said, "she is."

"She won't be single forever." Dad added.

"Well, yeah," I said, because I had known that – Rose was going to date and, well, hopefully I wouldn't remain alone forever – but that didn't mean I was being _replaced_ it wasn't like _that, _"but it won't be _the same."_

"Why?" Mum asked, sharply. "Is she a lesbian? Is that the problem?"

"_No_! I meant that… well _he _isn't going to be my replacement, it… that's just not a very nice concept."

"The truth is rarely nice," Dad added flippantly, "but he will be your replacement. And as her friend, you'll have to like him."

"I don't think you've thought this post-relationship friendship concept through."

"It's going to be fine," I said, hunching my shoulders against the onslaught of my parent's very loud opinion, "I know it's not going to be easy, but it was a nice break up. We're going to be friends. Rose said so."

"Yes," Mum said, "and have you heard from her since?"

"Has she arranged a friendly gathering?" Dad asked. "Written you any letters about her internship?"

"Well, no, but -"

"That doesn't sound like friendship." Mum said primly.

And if my Mum wasn't so oversensitive, I think I'd probably have retorted with 'no, it sounds like your marriage' but I compensated by thinking the words really loudly whilst looking at Dad, and given the slight twist of his lips he probably got the message.

"Can you just drop it Mum, please?" I asked, sighing as her lips thinned further. With my Mum, the more regal she looked the more you ought to brace _yourself_ for having your masculinity stripped away and your arse will and truly kicked. "I don't want to talk about it."

"That's probably the problem," Mum said, "you never talk about your problems, Scorpius, you let them _fester._Maybe we should have family counselling in addition to couple counselling? Goodness knows having to resort to _this _has already destroyed any sense of pride that I ever -"

"- what do you want me to do?"

"Write to her." Mum said tersely.

"What, Mum? You think I should send her a letter saying 'dear Rose, so it sucks that we broke up, although you probably had a po_int, and I was just wondering when the whole 'let's be friends' part of your speech kicked into action? Lots of friendly love, Scorpius_' because, frankly, that doesn't seem like the sort of conversation that translates well to parchment."

"_I will not have you talk to me like that," _Mum hissed, seemingly getting taller as she stared at me, "I will not, Scorpius Malfoy. You will not live under my roof and harbour such a _sarcastic _tongue. Now, you're going to go to Rose's apartment right now and talk to her."

There was no bloody way that was_ ever_ going to happen.

~~BREAK~~

Dom was the one who answered the door.

At this point in time I'd decided to blame Dominique Weasley completely for the entire demise of my romantic relationship with her cousin... and she never liked me in the first place due to my lack of dynamism, so I don't think either of us were particularly pleased to see the other on the end of the doorway.

There was a beat or two of silence.

"This is the bit," Dom said, forming the words deliberately with her stupid aggressively red lips, "where you explain why the hell you're here."

"Or you could just let me in."

"Or you could explain why the hell you're here?" Dom said, stretching out her fingers and blocking off the doorway.

"I don't know why that's your business."

"Well," Dom said, pouting as if deep in thought, "maybe because this is my flat."

"Your _shared_ flat."

"So," Dom said, "from that I'm going to deduce you're not here to see me."

"Not likely," I said, resisting the urge to shove my hands into my pockets or fold my arms, because I was reliably informed by my mother that it made me look like a moody teenager and ruined my posture.

"Be nice to the woman on the door, Malfoy."

"Quit with the power trip, Cerberus."

Why it was that Dominique Weasley brought out the most argumentative side of myself – which was a very minimal side, anyway, Rose was often saying I could _do _with a bit more fight in me (at least until I started fighting with her cousin) – I wasn't entirely sure, but there was something about her that really irked me.

"One head, genius." Dom said, pointing one of her fake nails at her head and sending me a smug look.

"Still a bitch." I muttered, returning the look.

"Am I to presume," Dom said, "that you're here to beg Rose for forgiveness?"

"Assume what you like," I shrugged, because after everything that had happened - and with Dom's name practically written all over my ceremonious dumping - the last thing I wanted was to let Dom have any more control in my relationships, "just let me in."

"Are you?"

"No."

That seemed to take Dom back slightly and she was silent for a few seconds whilst she took the information in, her red pouty lips parting slightly in surprise before she slammed her jaw shut and resumed her steely expression which always, inexplicably, reminded me of a bulldog that tried to attack my Dad when I was thirteen. "Why are you here?"

"Just -"

"- Rose isn't in," Dom interrupted, "I'll pass on the message."

"She didn't answer my letter."

"Did you miss the memo, Malfoy? You split up." Dom said, flicking her hair over her shoulder with one arm still on the doorway.

"She said she wanted to be friends."

"What?" Dom asked, "Are you serious? No one _means _that."

"I meant it when I agreed." I returned because, really, if Rose had offered out any other suggestion but an amiable break up and her still in my life as an important figure then I'd probably have fought harder against the notion of splitting up and I didn't want to be that guy who just _refused _to be dumped.

"Scorpius," Dom said, letting her am drop and in doing so began to look at least quasi-human, "that never ends well for anyone. Without space, neither of you can get over it. And you never end up searching for someone else, because you still have _that person _you just don't have sex anymore and _who needs sex anyway, _right? But if you're going to give her a chance of getting over you, then really Malfoy, you should just sod off and lick your own wounds."

"Will you tell her I called?"

"No," Dom said, shrugging guiltlessly, "I won't.

Sodding women.


	4. Six hundred and forty seven days before

Six hundred and forty seven days before

The problem was Sebastian Wilkes was entirely too charismatic: he was the reminder of why everyone had fallen behind a good looking, smart Slytherin in the first place, only hopefully without the murderous and prejudice tendencies because those sorts of things don't exactly make for happy co-habitation, but somehow he was able to convince the entire Slytherin dorm that we actually wanted to do something selfless and helpful.

Which I was entirely sure we hadn't really wanted to do in the first place. I was really considering mind control, because getting Liam Vaisey to stop licking his own arse (figuratively) for long enough to have a conversation was quite the achievement, let alone persuading him to leave the dormitory and troop downstairs to help take down Christmas decorations. Elliot Nott had emerged without so much as a complaint, and Sebastian - Seb - had also managed to convince Stanley and gotten him to recruit his twin sister, my ex-girlfriend and general hell raiser, Stacey, to the foray.

He'd been quite diplomatic in his explanation of the facts, as Seb always was. He'd explained that whilst all the prefects were usually eager to help put _up _the Christmas decorations there was always a distinct lack of volunteers to take them down again - a plight, he was sure, we'd all experienced at home (although, in my house the second sun set on Christmas day the single set of lights the annually reused plastic tree were vanished - Mum put up a good show of festivity, but Dad really couldn't be bothered with any of it), and he'd been so emotive when talking about Christmas trees beginning to rot, how it was usually left for the poor house elves to dissemble all the beautiful decorations we'd enjoyed at their expense, excreta… I really couldn't give a crap about the fairies in the fairy lights, or how the House Elves couldn't manage it all in one night and how they hated being seen, or that the charms would start wearing off the enchanted fake snow, yet I was trooping downstairs with the rest feeling oddly like I was serving my country.

"It's me and Rose Weasley who are heading up the operation," Sebastian explained as we neared the hall.

That, of course, made a great deal of sense.

Although Sebastian Wilkes never dated it wasn't through lack of offers, because his easy charisma and charm usually left the rest of us looking gangly and awkward, nor through lack of inclination - because as dorm mates you really _did _pick up on those sorts of things - but, I always suspect, the lack of a candidate that was _helpful enough. _

It sounded crass, but Seb was a Slytherin. People seemed to forget that just because he wasn't slimy and creepy like Liam, it didn't mean he wasn't a conniving bastard.

And Rose Weasley seemed to have caught his attention somewhat. She was the daughter of two war heroes putting him on the right side of the law, important for the ambitious slytherin pureblood descendent these days, plus she was a fellow prefect who seemed slightly more sensible than some of her relatives (who were full on absolute nutters), had good grades and probably a whole shiny future panned out before her. Plus, she wasn't bad to look at.

So it seemed about standard that this whole business of lending a hand to the house elves was probably just an attempt to get into Rose Weasley's pants, except we'd ended up being dragged into it which was a moment of stupidity coming from Seb - he could have organised a perfect one on one situation of removing baubles in close proximity, and now he'd invited Liam along and any chance of romance had been shot dead. I'd seen more romantic mountain trolls, and those beasts aren't pretty. In a choice between spending time with a jar of pickled frogs and my dorm mate, I'd pick the pickled frogs - the conversation was sure to be a tad more intellectual.

"Volunteers!" Rose called out excitedly as we trooped into the Great Hall, enthusiasm dissipating slightly as we looked at the really rather excessive Christmas decorations and came to terms with the fact that we'd probably be here for most of the evenings. A caught a flash of red hair half way up a ladder and shimmying down fast, before noticing that she wasn't quite on her own - Albus Potter had been dragged into the messy business (and didn't look too chuffed) along with Lucy Weasley, and the other Sixth Year Gryffindors – Imogen James and Abbey Stock were currently engaged with trying to dislodge the three foot snow flake topper from one of the trees - and one of Seb's rejected suitors who'd obviously walked into him at the wrong moment.

It still wasn't enough to make the task off removing _all _the Christmas trees any less depressing or daunting.

"Thanks Seb," Rose said distractedly, before letting forth a stream of instructions about where we should all start and what, exactly, was the correct protocol regarding sticking Mistletoe and infestations of birds in the Christmas trees. Seb, I noticed, was positioned at the opposite side of the hall to Rose which meant she was either oblivious or not interested.

Personally, I hoped she wasn't interested. Seb deserved not to get everything he ever wanted, if only because the rest of us Slytherins had to work so hard not to have food thrown at us every other week. And Rose probably deserved someone slightly more genuine about liking her - it couldn't be easy being lost in a family that big with that much pressure on her shoulders (although admittedly not as hard as being born on the wrong side of history, but I couldn't really hold that against her).

"Didn't realise we were here in the name of Sebastian Wilkes' sex life," Stacey Staple muttered as we trod over to our assigned Christmas tree feeling slightly glum. Although for most of my time at Hogwarts Stacey was nothing more than classmate and dorm mate's twin, these days she was one of my favourite Slytherins. Not that that really said much, but it was probably quite the thing to say considering she was my ex girlfriend...although, the several arrangements we had in place probably tilted that in the other direction somewhat. That, however, was not common knowledge.

"I was sold it under the package goodwill to men," I returned, "should have known better."

"Slytherin stupidity," Stacey agreed, "well, I'm wearing a short skirt and Albus Potter is working on the tree next door, mind if I head up the ladder? This is probably the only point in my life where he's might see my pants - got to seize an opportunity."

"Be my guest."

"Just don't look up," Stacey said, gingerly stepping on the first rung of the ladder and turning around to wink at me.

I held the ladder until she'd finished climbing, then set about vanishing the baubles and melting the fake snow with a wave of my wand. It was a bit of a slap on the face that I could easily be playing Gobstones or something right now, when actually I was on some stupid failed schemes designed to make my overachiever dorm mate look like a good dating decision, which he probably wasn't. The only one of my dorm mates I'd wish on any girl was Elliot Nott, who was only fairly high in my estimations because he very rarely talked to any of us.

"Didn't expect to see you here." Rose Weasley said, when I nearly elbowed her in the face trying to dislodge a stubborn bit of tinsel.

I glanced at Sebastian, who was tree-partners with Liam (who was stood at the foot of the ladder of the next tree over, trying to charm Edward Prichard's trousers to fall down, if his familiar expression of concentration was anything to go by), and decided that he was really owed a bitter aftertaste after dragging us down here with his persuasive rhetoric in a misguided attempt to get on Rose Weasley and become the Minister of Magic, or whatever.

"Yeah," I said, shrugging slightly, "but Seb mentioned about the House Elves, and I guess I felt we should all pull our weight."

"Oh," Rose said, blinking a few times, before smiling. "thanks. That's… good."

"Did you have a good Christmas?" I asked.

I didn't talk to Rose Weasley all that much. We had a few classes together, but hardly any of the classes had seating plans and even then they were often done in alphabetical order, so I didn't often wind up in a situation where we would converse. We'd been potions partners in second year, but conversation had never stretched beyond the levels of mundane questions about Christmases and weekends and homework.

"Oh," Rose said, "it was all right. Bit loud, really."

"Seems like your family has the potential to do that," I nodded in returning, accidentally looking up in the direction of Stacey, getting a glimpse of pants (turquoise lace) and turning away quickly.

Rose laughed.

"I'll say," she said, "I could get lost in all the Christmas chaos."

"The opposite at our house," I said, "I'm the Christmas centrepiece. Next year I think my Mum might actually stick me on top of the tree."

"For what it's worth," Rose smiled, "I think you'd look great as a tree topper."

"With wings, a halo and a pretty dress?" I questioned. "White really isn't my colour."

Rose smiled and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.

"So, your families pretty small then?"

"Yeah," I agreed, "one aunt and two full sets of grandparents. None of them are particularly amicable people, either."

"I'm sure they're not that bad."

"Ex-death eaters?" I pointed out, to which Rose flushed and spent a few long minutes trying to remove a gold coated holy branch from her tree. "Nah, they're not that bad really. Conversation is scarce though."

"Sounds peaceful," Rose said, raising hey eyebrows, "always fighting to get heard, me."

"Can't imagine anyone not listening to you, Rose." I said, which was probably the cheesiest thing I'd ever said in my life (confirmed by Stacey snorting loudly from somewhere above, but I wasn't going to look up to confirm the source of the noise and get another unwanted eyeful of lace), but Rose blushed so it served the purpose quite well.

"Well, with my family…there's always s_omeone _talking or not talking."

"You all seem pretty close."

"I guess," Rose said, turning away from her tree and the explosion of tinsel above to watch me removing several bells whose irritating jingling charm definitely hadn't worn off, "to some of them, anyway. It's like having a massive, ginger colony wherever we go. One time, for my granddad's birthday, we booked out the whole top floor of this muggle restaurant - he's a total Muggle nut - and the number of looks we got! I think they must have thought we were some weird ginger cult, or like part of some culture which advocated only ginger-ginger marriages, or something. One of them genuinely called us _racist. _So then Uncle George decided to order anything on the menu with ginger in… I don't think he even knew what ginger beer was but…"

"They sound great," I said honestly, "if overwhelming. I'm all alone."

"Poor Scorpius." Rose commented, dryly.

"So lonely."

"You've never been lonely in your life," Rose scoffed, "you're in Island."

"So's England."

"That doesn't even make sense," Rose said, turning back to her tree and removing baubles at top speed.

"Is it the elves then," I began, "why you wanted to take down the Christmas decorations? I'm assuming it was your idea."

"Oh, yeah," Rose shrugged slightly, glancing down again, "Christmas shouldn't make things worse for other people. Our… celebrating with lots of big trees and fancy lights shouldn't negatively impact other things, or I couldn't really enjoy it properly. It's just a bit too selfish. You know?"

"Nope," I said with a grin, "Slytherin to the core, Rose. A hundred percent selfish."

"Don't believe a word."

"Good," I smiled, "but do watch out for some of the others. They're not all good like me."

"Oh?"

"You know why Seb is here, right?"

Rose blushed enough that I took that to mean she had some inclination as to why he was there and that her decision to place him with Liam as far away from her as possible had been entirely intentional. This also meant she'd picked me and Stacey to be in the tree adjacent to her, so that indicated she didn't think I was as bad as all that - and that was really flattering, considering I was a Malfoy and she was a Weasley and I spent most of the time convinced they were planning ways to avenge Harry Potter's… school grudge, or whatever you wanted to call it.

"Isn't he your friend?" Rose asked, hand on hip and she turned to face me. "Why are you warning me against his unsavoury intentions?"

That had completely and utterly stumped me. I didn't usually go out of my way to talk to people and the whole purpose of engaging Rose in conversation was to make Seb feel like a bit of an idiot, but it wasn't like I could tell Rose that because I'd come off as a bastard too. And it wasn't like the situations were comparable - it wasn't like I was planning on seducing Rose and sleeping with her, just having a simple conversation and hoping that Seb saw and repented from being an idiot and using girls like commodities (or at least, getting his dorm mates involved in schemes to use girls like commodities).

"Good intentions." I shrugged, turning back to me tree deliberately and noting that this section of the tree was looking a little sparse and I should probably move around, but I didn't really want to cut the conversation with Rose short. I was, despite it all, quite enjoying conversing with Rose Weasley.

I couldn't pinpoint why that was surprising, either, because Rose was intelligent and generally quite nice and I'd found her a more than pleasant potions partner and generally considered her to be a nice person - perhaps why I was so bothered by Seb's lack of respect towards her, if he'd picked on of her other cousins it might be a little different - so finding her company enjoyable really shouldn't have been as shocking as it was.

"If you say so," Rose said, shrugging slightly and turning to another part of the tree, not far enough away that we couldn't continue talking. Her's was looking a little sparse too. "I guess you're glad to be back at Hogwarts, then?"

"Definitely," I said, "it's nice to have some peace and quiet which isn't directly associated with my parents refusing to talk to each other."

There was a beat of silence when I tried to work out where_ that _had come from. It wasn't like I usually broadcasted quite how dysfunctional my family unit was, nor was I repressing it and just waiting for the right person to come along to dig out all the angst from my stomach with a pair of safety scissors. I just didn't talk about it because I didn't think it merited actual words being wasted on it, and someone other than my brain space been bothered by something which was really quite mundane. Loads of parents had marital problems and whilst I didn't think all of them were solved by a succession of made up problems from the son's end and carefully fabricated stories to invoke closeness, I didn't think it was worth bringing up in conversation.

And that comment had just burst out my mouth without me even thinking about it.

"I can sympathise with that," Rose said, rolling her eyes, "my parents bicker worse than Al and James."

"Oh," I said, raising my eyebrows to try and show this reference meant something to me. I could almost hear Stacey's voice in the back of my mind '_typical Weasley trait, always assume everyone knows and cares about them_' which was as cynical as the usual Stacey standard, as well as being almost completely true. I just hadn't pinned Rose to be quite like that.

"That's a lot," she clarified, "if you haven't heard about their legendary prank wars."

"I haven't."

"Lucky," Rose said, "but it usually averages out as about one argument a day, only it's a lot more than that at Christmas. Sometimes I just think they should _stay _mad at each other so I don't have to listen to Dad making comments about SPEW - don't ask - but, I know they don't mean it, it's just irritating have to reside in the same house as it."

"My Mum is big on playing happy families," I shrugged, keen to move on from to the topic and disappear round the other side of the tree, but it felt like it would be rude to walk away when she'd started talking about things that were relatively serious. "Her 'let's pretend it's all okay' game is legendary."

"Sounds tiring."

"It's all right."

"Hey, Rose," Albus muttered, having just climbed down the ladder looking a little disgruntled, "mind giving me a hand with this ladder? Need to move it round to tackle the west facing side." He sounded more than slightly sarcastic and not too pleased. Rose flushed slightly.

Just then, whilst I was looking at the contrast between Rose's pink skin and her bright red hair, there was a sudden yelp, a swear word or two, and then Stacey came hurtling towards the floor in a rush of limbs and expletives.

She landed with an 'oof' a few centimetres away from Albus's foot and, given her skirt had blown up during the fall, it was safe to say she'd definitely seized the opportunity for Albus Potter to see her underwear… it just had the unfortunate side effect of causing her enough pain to start whimpering and crying in a way I wouldn't necessarily have defined as attractive.

And this was coming from the direction of her ex-boyfriend.

~~BREAK~~

"It was a perfectly sound plan," Stacey hissed out of the corner of her mouth, so that Rose couldn't hear, "Albus was supposed to catch me."

"You missed." I returned, stretching out my legs at her bedside and shaking my head slightly. After discovering that Stacey wasn't capable of standing up, I'd gotten the wonderful job of levitating her to the Hospital Wing with Rose for company. Rose had insisted on coming out of the belief that the accident was all her fault but was currently talking to Neville Longbottom near the door. The second Rose had slipped away Stacey's face twisted into more of a grimace and began talking non-stop about how rubbish the male gender was, or something.

"Gryffindor chivalry," Stacey muttered, rolling her eyes, "it's dead, I tell you. Doesn't even live on in the Potter blood. What's the point of Gryffindors if they can't do the knight in shining armour thing properly?"

"Couldn't tell you."

"At least," Stacey breathed, "Wilkes saw Rose attached to your arm on the way out of the Great Hall. There is still a silver and green lining. I'll feed Stanley lots of lines about flirty looks and sexual tension, to really get at him."

"When did Seb reject you, anyway?"

"Oh shut up," Stacey said, waving this away, "we're not all Rose Weasley's. Some of us have to accidentally on purpose fall out of Christmas trees to get noticed."

"You weren't though, Stace."

"You've noticed me before." Stacey said pointedly.

Considering my lack of motivation for seeking out people and forming close relationships, I tended not to date much. But Stacey was the sort of person who plucked you out of a crowd and demanded to be noticed, so it wasn't so much as I'd sought her out as she'd barrelled into my life, suggested going to Hogsmeade and we'd ended up as an item for three months. When, after this amount of time had elapsed and I hadn't tried to jump her bones she seemed to decide that, as it turned out, we weren't that good of a match after all and things had come to a swift and succinct end.

Or maybe not that succinct, really.

She may not have broken my heart but the pride took quite a wound and I hadn't thought I'd had all that much to begin with. Now, though, we were amiable and as friendly as I was to anyone, and she picked me up and dropped me at will (which was nice, actually, and much less intense than having to deal with her on a daily basis). Plus, there were benefits to having her around.

I glanced over at Rose, still in conversation with Neville.

"Hey," Stacey said, "If Rose falls madly in love with you, will you stop sleeping with me?"

Like I said - benefits.

"Very probably," I returned with an eye roll, squaring my shoulders as I turned to face her again, "can't imagine you'd be too bothered."

"You're fairly dispensable," Stacey agreed, "but it'll be a shame that there's no one I don't have to fall out of a dying Christmas tree for."

"Can't see it being an issue," I said, glancing back at Rose, "anyway, as you're okay I should probably go probably tell Stan you haven't lost the ability to walk or something."

"Oh, come on," Stacey complained, rolling her eyes at the ceiling and shrugging her shoulders, "considering you've been the most chivalrous man of the hour, the least you could do is stay by my bedside."

"It's your own fault."

"Oh go play Gobstones," Stacey muttered, "you're useless, Malfoy."

"You're insults are like knives," I said sarcastically, kicking back my legs and glancing at the ceiling, "they wound me."

The arrangement certainly hadn't been my idea and I didn't really encourage it either, but it wasn't my place as a teenage male to put a stop to it. And so the whole thing would just continue and she'd pick me up when she wanted me and I'd let her and that was perfectly fine by me. A nice easy alternative to relationships, actually. Very Slytherin, actually. Probably the most Slytherin thing I had going in my life, if you ignored the manic Death Eater relatives… which I really did try to do. Helped me sleep at night.

Professor Longbottom turned away from Rose and the edge of the Hospital wing, Rose stayed stock still for a second before turning around and walking towards Stacey's bed looking even more distraught than she had done previously.

"What's up?"

"Apparently," Rose said, her voice shaking slightly, "it… was against the rules to organise the de-decorating without adult supervision."

"Are you serious?" Stacey asked. "Because, technically, Scorp turned seventeen right before Christmas so - "

"Professor Supervision," Rose said, blinking, "and because you're hurt, I mean it's not your fault, of course, but I've got detention all week."

"Life's a bitch." Stacey commented dryly.

"Erm, you're in too Scorpius," Rose said apologetically, "everyone else but Albus scarpered when they realised they were in trouble, but… erm, because you're here he knew you were involved so erm…"

"Am I in detention?" Stacey asked, sitting up wincing slightly, looking like she was a few seconds away from listing the name of every single student who'd been involved in the whole messy business, just so that she didn't go down alone.

"No," Rose breathed, "he said as you were hurt you'd, er, already learnt your lesson… I'm really sorry, Scorpius. I didn't mean to get you in trouble - I didn't know it was against the rules…"

"That's okay," I said, smiling slightly and sending Stacey a look, "at least there's some decent company."

"Right," Rose said, glancing at me looking slightly unsure, eyes wide, "well, we're cleaning the Trophy Room tomorrow at eight. He'll probably keep us all night - bitter idiot - but it shouldn't be too bad, I mean… I'm really sorry."

"That's okay."

"And the stupid thing is," Rose continued, "on Tuesday our detention is _taking down the Christmas Decorations."_

I laughed at that.

"I'll wait up till you've finished, Scorp." Stacey said pointedly, sending me a look that was usually reserved for the likes of Albus Potter and certainly not for me. I was accustomed to certain levels of distain from Stacey and this sudden mood change took me by surprise for a minute. To the extent that I was stunned into not reacting for a good few, long seconds.

"Oh," Rose said, glancing between the two of us quickly, "well, see you tomorrow night, then."

"Bye," I said, weakly, turning around to face Stacey with an incredulous expression, "thanks."

"Hey," Stacey grinned, "I'm all for you getting one over on Wilkes, but really - Rose Weasley?"

"Sod off," I commented, "it's not like I was going to _do_ anything."

"Sort of my point," Stacey said, "you heart breaker, you."

* * *

_Did I mention this story is written entirely for my good friend Hanzi? And as it's a NaNo project it's pretty much all done, harrah. Hope you're enjoying and feel free to let me know if you are/aren't/couldn't care less_.


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